Day Lost

Uuuummmm...What in daHell happened to the first day of the year?

It has just slid away into a whole mesh of nothingness. Already my great plans to start the new year off differently got deadlined.

I'm thinking that this is going to be a year of challenges. How do I know this?

My first challenge was issued less than 35 minutes into the new year.

I was at a girlfriend's party with a very sophisticated (I used that word rather facetiously to describe those bourgeouis negroes.) crowd. You know how socially retarded grown ass people look standing the fuck around in cliques sipping wine and eating appetizers when they asses are supposed to be at a FUCKING PARTY?

I hate that shit. Everybody standing around talking to only who the fuck they know. Trying to appear too cool for school. All dressed up in their flyest shit (so you know they want to be seen), but sticking to the wall like they don't want to attract attention (so it doesn't look like they are trying too hard).

I don't have those kinds of issues. I like me. I like being me. A bunch of folks that I don't really know are not going to stop me from enjoying myself.

So......I am at this party (as if you didn't know that) and I am the ONLY PERSON DANCING. I mean at first, the music was kinda lame. The IPOD playlist was NOT the business. It was uptempo enough to get your head bobbing, but not really enough to make you want to jam your ass off.

Finally, someone went and got a different IPOD with some different music. It was finally the right kind of music - the kind I needed to make me move. So, I did. And as I just said. I WAS THE ONLY PERSON DANCING.

And I was dancing my ass off.

Now let me bring another aspect of the 30-something we successful negroes and feeling our cool selves set. There are men and women there. Some couples. Some single dudes. Some single chicks. (Which is about how those things go, right? I know. Almost not even necessary to say.)

And of course, where there are single men and single women in the place, folks are looking at each other. In the bourgeouis negro set, this happens rather surreptiously. Because nobody wants to be seen checking anybody out.

And me, being the flossy single chick that I am. I was checking out the dude candy in the place. I got to noticing that just about every dude in this place was short. And when I say short, I mean all of them but two were shorter than 6' and not even possible matches for me in any way.

As a female who is 5'10" in bare feet, to me, guys that are shorter than 6' are short. Because when I put shoes on and most often, I am in boots, heels or high heeled sandals.

However, it occured to me that because my girlfriend who is hosting this party is 5'3", to her, these guys are tall.

That leaves the two tall dudes standing all the way across the room in the kitchen. One of which was rather Delicious. However, the out of town house guest of my gf whose house we were at whom I had met the night before when we were all at The Tavern, had somehow worked into the brief conversation that she and I had that she had "sent word about that one". Which was cool with me. Hell, I wasn't there to pick up negroes anyway. I am already quite busy enough thank you. (Not that I would have ignored a proper advance :-D)

Which brings me back to my dancing.

I am jamming for like the 5th song straight now (but not breaking a sweat). One couple got up and shuffled around for a few minutes and then sat back down.

I turn around and Delicious is no longer on the other side of the room. He is now sitting on the stool that I had vacated when I started dancing and that I am still less than 6 inches from.

And as things often go when two single, attractive people are in the same space, we begin conversing. Less than two minutes later, my gf comes through and pulls my shirttail and whispers, "Unt-uh, don't try that one."

I got so immediately pissed my vision went blurry for a couple of clicks. Delicious sensed something was wrong and asked what was up. In my new uncutness, I told him that I had been warned to stay away from him and for her to say something like that it meant that it was time for me to go.

I found my coat from her utility closet, said some polite good nights and headed for the door. Delicious grabbed my hand as I was passing by and was like, "What's up? You're really leaving?"

"Yes, I'm leaving. I am a grown ass woman and I don't play kid games. At the point that she said that shit to me, that meant that I was no longer welcome here and that it was time for me to go. I have been told not to talk to you. However, if you would like to walk me to my car, you're more than welcome to do so. Let's roll."

I walked off and didn't even look back to see if he followed.

Of course, he did.

As he walked me to my truck, I gave him the full scenario and told him exactly why things happened the way that they did. I described the female to him and told him of her interest. (His response: "You mean the Old Chick?" (An aside - yes, there was a small chuckle of satisfaction at his statement.) He then says, "Y'all are funny."

My response, "Naw, THEY are funny. I don't play those school girl games."

We got to my truck. He asked for my number, a hug and a New Year's kiss. He got all three - the kiss being a rather benign, brief meeting of two sets of very soft lips.

I have plans to address this foolishness with my gf - soon.

Y'all think I overreacted?

(Disclaimer - This is not what I planned for my first post of the year to be about. And this rather lengthy post did not even cover the other way in which I was tried by my ex-shithead starting with text messages at 236a. But you know what...Oh well to ALL of THAT...it's the new year, bytches and it is SexyCool's UnCut Year of Big Fun - more on that later.)

Kick rocks, bytches.

SexyCool Uncut

Fuck 2008! Yeah, I said it!

I'm kicking the doors down on 2009. I'm delighted as shit to see 2008 out this bitch. And, I gladly left all the bullshit behind. Along with a no good mphcka and of lot of extra baggage that freed up a lot of space in my life.

For 2009, I am done with - BNB - bitch.assness and bullshit, regardless of what form in comes in. So, whether you bring me BNB intentionally or it just happens to fall over into our shit like a vase getting knocked off a pedestal, I am liable to fuck you up.

Not physically, cause I'm not a violent chick, but verbally, I'ma HAVE to go up one side of your ass and come down the other in order to set you straight.

Yep, 2009 - you will experience SexyCool Uncut!!!

And you will be LOVING me, bytches...

lol...

Feliz Navi-NOT!!!

I opted out of Christmas this year. This is probably due to a combination of things.

1) The media has been reporting that we are in a recession.

2) I just broke up with my live in of three years after finally catching him out with another chick. (And no, I was not out looking for him. I was giving a friend a ride. Catching him in his bullshit must have been my early Christmas gift from the Universe - I'll take it.)

3) I have come to resist consumer driven holidays.

4) I don't NEED anything. Of course, I can always upgrade on things that I already own. And who can't use yet another pair of boots or another pair of really great jeans.

5) I am really lazy right now.

6) Follow up to #2, aforementioned shithead stuck me with all of this month's bills, which I had the money to cover, it just wasn't budgeted that way. Oh well...

As such, it is 1004p on Christmas eve and I am sitting here reading other's blogs and watching Ice Age on the FX because my plans for the evening fell through. And while I could 'get cute and go somewhere and be cute', tonight, I just wanna chill.

Oh and for dude that is calling me, telling me that he is getting off shortly, trying to score a Christmas eve invite over to the crib - that is so NOT happening.

Living Single

We are living singllllleeee....check, check, check it out.

Update. That single thing was off. There was supposed to be a reconciliation. In fact, it came up the day after my last post celebrating singleDOM.

Well, didn't work.

Exactly three months later, single is back on.

And truly.......

I........

AM........

LOVING.........

IT!!!!!!!!

Sangin' Like My Name is Trina

Single Again, Back on the Prowl....

Okay, well maybe not quite back on the prowl, but certainly single again. AND LOVING IT!!!

And no, that's not something that I'm just telling myself as a desperate, lonely chick. I really had forgotten how comfortable being a single person is for me.

As you can see, I've not been updating with any regularity. Not since January. Well, it was right around that time that the issues with the S.O. and I began to come to a head. And for SEVERAL months, we went back and forth over the issues (and there were several - all related).

At any rate, I'm back to ENJOYING life and focusing on myself and my goals and my plans for big success.

Thanks for joining me for the ride!!!

View from My Window

Um, yesterday....it snowed in Atlanta.

Did you hear me? Do I need to repeat myself?

It SNOWED in Atlanta. That's like south of the Mason Dixon Line. It doesn't snow in the South. Or it shouldn't. That's kinda like Hell freezing over. Or maybe not. Shocking as it may have been, this is the view from my patio. I stuck my head outside the door for about two seconds and snapped this shot with my camera phone. It's kinda pretty.

I actually LOVE snow. I enjoy looking at pictures of it and seeing it on television and watching people make snowmen on postcards and think I'd be a pretty decent skier if I could stand up long enough to make it down a slope on the blasted slippery things. I even like shaking up the water in the snow globes to watch the snow peacefully float to the bottom of the globes that I collect.

However, I don't too much care for seeing it outside my window. I don't like sweeping it off my truck. I have no desire to make snow angels or snow men. I'm sure it has something to do with the freezing temperatures that accompany snow - hence the title - frozen participation.

Did I mention it was colder than a polar bear's toenails?

Miracles and Blessings

I first heard "Miracles and Blessings" from a character played by actress Tamala.Jones. She had just been to some sort of party with her sisterfriends. As she was driving off, she waved out the window and hollered, "Miracles and Blessings, Ladies. Miracles and Blessings!"

It stuck with me. Since then, I use it as the closing for all of my personal emails and any internet message board posting.

I've also expanded it somewhat to say, "May your life be filled with miracles and your cup overflow with blessings."

Miracles and Blessings.

Two Roads Diverge

Which one do I take?

With 35 less than a month away, I find myself at a crossroads. I am slightly out of sorts and pondering which choice will be the right one for me.

I wish I could be more expressive about exactly how this not of 'something' feels in my tummy. I am thinking that more than anything, I just want to document how this 'something' is throwing me off balance. That way, I can look back at this later and better analyze what this 'something' is.

It's taking my focus off of the big picture.

And since I'm rambling and not really resolving anything or even making that much sense. I'm going to end this inadequate entry and do what I always do when I come to this kind of crossroad.

I am going to keep living, one heartbeat, one breath, one moment at a time.

Grab Bag - $1.00

Since I have a hodge podge of thoughts rolling around in my head this morning, I'm dumping them all in a grab bag.

Feel free to donate the one dollar fee to your favorite charity.

Big Medicine - Turned to TLC during my cardio time on the elliptical. It motivated me to do an extra ten minutes.

Donny Osmond - Has a big head and it's starting to become shaped like Jay Leno's.

Night Time Grazing - my secret sin.

My scale - It's at the back of my closet calling my name, but I refuse to acknowledge it until Sunday morning at 800a.

I'm taking my grandmother out to eat tonight. She wants to go to Red Lobster on Camp Creek. So, first time ever I am going to check out the nutritional values on their menu so that I will know what I am going to order before I go. (Oh, that also means that I need to plan to be calorie light all day today.)

I am really sleepy and don't want to go work out this morning. I am attempting to motivate myself with some Johnny Cochran type rhymes (btw - I am with Denise Brown on Fred Goldman being hypocritical and money hungry when it comes to publishing that book.)

Back to the Johnny Cochran rhymes...

I'm fat, I'm fat. Working out is where it's at.

Until my jeans fit, I must not quit.

And I could think of about 20 others, but I really would just be trying to delay that which must be done.

Miracles and Blessings.

Lane Bryant Boycott

I must say it.

I HATE LANE BRYANT!!!

Or more to the point, I hate the thought that I can actually fit some of the clothes that they make.

It all started when I was in Lerner - the store that is within in my price point for clothes shopping, but that I really don't like that much because the quality of their clothes are only acceptable at best.

At any rate - I was in Lerner and some time after my last shopping trip, their extra larges had been replaced by a size that I generously refer to as extra medium. Everything that I tried on hugged my 'bad area'.

In other words, held onto my two bellies and made me look like I was about three months into carrying twins - one above my belly button and one below. (Yes, I have the infamous belly crease - which I plan on devoting an entire post to at a later date.)

I can't even begin to describe the horror of the infamous 'mushroom top' when trying to fit into a pair of their jeans. I was forced to abandon the New York store and head to other 'pastures'. (And I do intentionally say pastures because at that particular moment, I felt like a cow.)

At Lane's, I was able to find blouses with enough material in them to hide the belly rolls. However, their jeans are cut in a way that just makes me look bad-bodied.

I mean - I know I had this two stomach thing going on, but the fit of Lane Bryant jeans just wiped away any resemblence of a figure - so I refuse to buy them.

With my commitment to better lifestyle and eating choices, I am bound and determined never to go into a Lane Bryant store to shop for myself again.

Ditto for Ashley Stewart.